<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Social Maneuvering in Stormy Weather by if420fireflies</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486209">Social Maneuvering in Stormy Weather</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/if420fireflies/pseuds/if420fireflies'>if420fireflies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Auror Trainee Draco Malfoy, Confused Harry Potter, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, confusing draco malfoy, harry has nothing on draco's charm, i don't make the rules, kaleidoscope metaphors apparently, on the other hand both are equally stupid, or maybe fortunately?, unfortunately for him</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:01:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/if420fireflies/pseuds/if420fireflies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone’s heard of the "befriend their best mate" strategy of getting a guy to notice you. But have you ever heard of “befriend their best mate, and then end up in a spiteful competition to befriend all their friends before they befriend all of yours, because you’ve hated each other since you were eleven and literally can’t do anything without making it into a fight”? </p><p>Yeah, neither has Harry. But he’s certainly <em>noticed</em> Malfoy now, so who is Harry to question Malfoy's methods?</p><p>Some lines of poetry, two rainy nights, a windy day, a kaleidoscope, and a children's lullaby.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy &amp; Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy &amp; Pansy Parkinson &amp; Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter &amp; Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter &amp; Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood &amp; Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood &amp; Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood/Pansy Parkinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>228</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Social Maneuvering in Stormy Weather</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you in advance for reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry has a life that has been more than long and varied enough, filled with all kinds of desperate wanting. Can Voldemort not kill me this year? Can I please survive this tournament? Will Ron ever notice me the way I want him to? What- ignore that last one. </p><p>The point is, it would be perfectly fine if Harry never wanted anything again, never wanted for anything, and if nothing of event ever happened again. He'd be perfectly happy, existing in greyness. </p><p>So it would be <em>nice</em> if Malfoy could bugger off, stop stealing Harry’s friends, and stop reminding Harry of killing curses and screaming in a bathroom.</p><p>The first casualty on Harry’s side is Ron. It happens one dark rainy Friday night, the usual time for Ron, Hermione and Harry’s weekly gathering at 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry had cheerfully walked down to the door, which was being hammered on incessantly, and opened it to find Ron, his arm slung around a shivering and drenched Malfoy, both of them grinning.</p><p>“The hell is Malfoy doing here?” Harry demands.</p><p>“He’s a friend?” Ron looks pensive, then nods firmly. “A friend.”</p><p>“A <em>what?</em>”</p><p>So Malfoy ends up sprawled on one side of Harry’s couch, a slightly drunk Ron taking up the other side and draping his legs over Malfoy’s. Ron’s in full Wizarding robes, which makes the fact that Malfoy’s wearing ripped jeans and a Muggle band T-shirt even stranger. They’re getting water all over the covers, Harry thinks irritatedly.</p><p>“Hey, hey, uh, Harry, you’re not,” Ron’s words slur, “not still mad at Malfoy? For being a piece of shit?” Ron falls half off the couch.</p><p>“No, it’s fine, he apologized, remember?” Harry grits out. They’ve been laughing at each other’s stupid jokes for half an hour now. Hermione looks just about as irritated as Harry feels, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t talk to her without being interrupted by some minor catastrophe caused by either Ron, or Malfoy, or both.</p><p>“Can I get anyone a drink?” Harry asks, truly at a loss. “Another drink, I mean.”</p><p>“Hold on, mate, Draco’s telling me this fuckin’, fuckin’- fantastic story, I just need to hear the end-”</p><p>Malfoy whispers something into his ears. Ron’s eyes widen and he says “<em>Really?</em> But <em>how?</em>” Malfoy nods earnestly, and continues talking.</p><p>At the end of the night, Harry shoves Ron firmly into the Floo, dictating his address for him. Hermione, as someone actually capable of taking hints, had left several hours before. Malfoy is significantly less plastered than Ron, managing to walk to the fireplace on his own.</p><p>“‘G'bye, Potter, thank you for having me,” the slur of alcohol mixing strangely with his pureblood accent.</p><p>“Malfoy. Can I talk to you for a second?”</p><p>“Sure, what?” Malfoy seems to abruptly sober up.</p><p>“Why not, get your own friends, instead of <em>stealing</em> mine?” Harry practically hisses.</p><p>“You can spare a few friends, Potter.”</p><p>“Get. Your. Own.”</p><p>“I have my own, Potter,” Malfoy says, yawning.</p><p>“Maybe I’ll steal yours, then.”</p><p>“I’d like to see you try. It’s a miracle you have any friends at all, the way you carry on.”</p><p>“Oh, I <em>will</em> try, <em>Malfoy.</em>”</p><p>Malfoy gives him a mocking little wave as he declares “Malfoy Manor” to the fireplace flames and steps primly away.</p><p>Harry just wants things to be simple. Simple friendships, simple relationships, simple work. It would be nice if Malfoy could refrain from complicating two out of the three, but of course the fucker has to become an Auror and steal Harry’s friends. It’s as if he’s more suited to Harry’s life than <em>Harry</em> is. So, feeling extremely bitter the next day, Harry tries. Malfoy’s tight with Luna Lovegood, isn’t he? Harry owls her, asking if she’d be interested in getting a drink. She replies within minutes, with a long winding letter that details her studies of magical creatures Harry has never heard of. But it ends with “A drink sounds wonderful, there are many Nargles at bars this time of year!” They meet at the Leaky Cauldron half an hour later.</p><p>Luna looks wonderful. She’s wearing casual white and pale yellow robes, and miniature plum-coloured Sorting Hats as earrings. Harry tells her so, and she grins and thanks him. Since school, to everyone’s surprise, Luna had managed to prove that the imaginary life forms she saw all around her weren’t so imaginary after all, through careful photography and a lot of patience. There are still many strange things about her, however. For instance, right now she's launching Harry into a discussion on what it must be like to be a building rafter.</p><p>“Maybe you’d feel a lot of tension, since you have such an important job to do?”</p><p>“Oh! You’re right, Harry. I didn’t think of that.”</p><p>“Why do you think it’d be lonely, though?”</p><p>“Well, imagine. Once, you were part of a tree, a great big living thing, and now you are naught but a single plank, far away from even your building brethren.” Luna points to the wide gaps between the rafters of the bar.</p><p>“Oh. That does sound awfully lonely.”</p><p>“Do you think the rafters are happy?”</p><p>“Hmmm. I’m really not sure.”</p><p>“I hope they are. I’ll have to visit them again later.”</p><p>“I hope so too. Say, how’s Pansy doing?”</p><p>“Oh, she’s doing beautifully.” Luna’s voice becomes dreamy, and Harry sends her a teasing glance. Luna smiles at him, and changes the topic. Luna and him had always gotten along well. Harry wonders why he had never bothered to make friends with her before now.</p><p>But as always, he finds it impossible to understand why Luna’s close with Malfoy. Their natures don’t seem to complement, Draco loud and obnoxious while Luna is contemplative and considerate. On the other hand, you only had to watch Pansy and Luna together for five minutes to understand why they worked. Luna’s softness tempers Pansy and Pansy’s acerbity grounds Luna, despite how weird it had seemed at the beginning. So maybe Draco and Luna’s friendship was the same sort of thing.</p><p>“Oh, Harry, would you care to come over for tea tomorrow? I believe Draco will be there, too. Draco Malfoy.”</p><p>“Tea? Malfoy? <em>Yes,</em>” Harry practically sings. Luna sends him a confused look, then a knowing one, which in turn confuses Harry.</p><p>“Three’s a good time to drop in. Thank you very much for listening to me. It was wonderful to see you again, Harry.” She smiles shyly at him, then glances upwards. “Goodbye, rafters.”</p><p>“You too, Luna.” He imitates her, waving farewell to the ceiling, then heads back home.</p><p>The next day at three, Harry Floos into the Lovegood parlour. It’s messy, but cosy, filled with strange trinkets and devices, and various comfortable-looking, sagging pieces of furniture. A dragon clock ticks away in the corner, setting itself on fire every ten minutes.</p><p>Luna and Malfoy are sitting on a long sofa, talking quietly. Malfoy nods silently at her, evidently listening to some story or another, leaning forward with what looks like genuine interest. Occasionally, he asks a restrained, muted question. Huh. Strange. Harry thinks back to a presumptuous Malfoy flopping all over his couch, screaming out some horrid drinking song with Ron.</p><p>Luna looks up at the sound of the fireplace, breaking off mid-sentence.</p><p>“Oh! Harry! Thank you for making it!” But Harry’s eyes are already seeking out Malfoy’s, who looks <em>furious.</em> Harry grins with barely concealed satisfaction.</p><p>“Hi, Luna, thank you for having me! Hey, Malfoy.” Harry allows himself another smirk. Malfoy looks ready to explode.</p><p>“Oh, Harry, that reminds me. I’ve been wanting to show you this research on the rafters. Did you know they’re all made of magical ash trees from a particular forest? Each tree can only produce one plank, because of their irregularly shaped trunks, but the wood is highly prized. They’ve almost been logged to extinction.”</p><p>“Oh, really? What’s so special about the wood?”</p><p>“I’ll show you! I have a portkey to the London library.”</p><p>Malfoy stands up. Luna frowns, and throws him an apologetic glance.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Draco. The portkey only works for two people at a time, because of space disturbance concerns.”</p><p>‘Oh, it’s quite alright, Luna,” he replies... fondly? Wow.</p><p>“We’ll be back as quick as we can. Right, Harry?”</p><p>“Yeah, of course we will.” Harry says, earning himself a huge glare from Malfoy. “See you, Malfoy!” he adds cheerfully. “Sorry for <em>carrying on</em> so much!”</p><p>Unfortunately, the next day, Malfoy retaliates by taking Ginny. When Harry walks into the crowded Auror cafeteria for lunch break, the first thing he sees is Ginny and him sitting side by side at a table, both still in their work uniforms. Ginny is almost bent over double laughing while Malfoy sits with his chin in one hand, smiling at her. Ginny punches Malfoy in the shoulder (those punches <em>hurt,</em> Harry knows) and keeps shaking hard enough to almost fall into her thermos. Malfoy says something to her again, his eyes smiling, and she only cackles harder.</p><p>“Did you- did you actually-”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“But you’re not even an Auror yet, and he’s a- he’s a- Hit Wizard-” Ginny dissolves into laughter again.</p><p>“I mean, it worked, didn’t it?” Malfoy replies, and starts laughing himself.</p><p>Harry looks at the two of them, bent over their meals shaking in solidarity, Ginny grabbing at her own ribs and Malfoy poking at her, telling her to “stop laughing, stop laughing, I can’t stop, oh god,” and feels an intense pang of jealousy.</p><p>But he hasn’t felt anything romantically like that for Ginny in ages. Why would he be jealous? Especially when it’s Malfoy, of all people. Harry decides that this is an unsafe line of questioning and brushes it away. He is going to <em>kill</em> Malfoy. Going for the exes, huh? Harry can do that, too. What was Blaise’s Owl address, again?</p><p>Malfoy glances up, and catches sight of Harry, his laughter tapering off quickly. He waves a hand to him sardonically, the same way he had done Friday. Harry grits his teeth, and wonders how someone who everyone else seems to love instantly can be so <em>irritating.</em> But then Ginny also sees him, and waves him over.</p><p>“Harry!” she calls, so Harry shrugs and goes.</p><p>“Have you heard? About what Draco said to Peasegood?” she demands.</p><p>“Isn’t that the really tall Hit Wizard who always looks like he’s thinking about how much better than you he is?”</p><p>“Yeah, Draco was assigned to be on that dragon trafficking mission with him, because, you know, department-wide fame for potion brewing skills-” Harry sighs. He has heard more than enough about Malfoy’s multitudinous talents. Harry listens as Ginny explains about the incredibly rude and rather creative insults Malfoy had thrown, after Peasegood had forbidden him, basically, from contributing to the mission at all.</p><p>Malfoy sits diagonally across from Harry, modestly eating fried rice with chopsticks as Ginny tells his story. It is indeed a very amusing story. Harry can’t help but grin at parts. Peasegood had always been a bit of a snot.</p><p>“Malfoy, did you not get reprimanded for that?” Harry asks, still a bit disbelieving.</p><p>“Nothing yet,” he replies, looking down at his food.</p><p>“You must have taken him down hard.”</p><p>The ghost of a smile traces its way onto Malfoy’s face, and somehow he looks happier than he had when he was doubled over in laughter with Ginny.</p><p>“Oh, one more thing, Malfoy. Blaise or Pansy. Who would it be more annoying for me to befriend?”</p><p>Harry watches as he blanches. “Don’t you <em>dare.</em>”</p><p>“Which one, Malfoy?”</p><p>“Neither. Don’t.”</p><p>“Well, seeing as you’ve befriended <em>my</em> ex-girlfriend, I think it’s only fair.”</p><p>Ginny glances up sharply. “My, my, Harry, so possessive even after we’ve broken up.”</p><p>“Sorry, Gin.”</p><p>Malfoy buries his face in his arms. Harry smiles, and prods him in the head.</p><p>“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just try both.”</p><p>“I can imagine you trying to <em>charm</em> them. Oh, sweet Merlin.”</p><p>“You did start this whole thing.”</p><p>At that, Malfoy regains his haughty composure. He waves his fingers dismissively at Harry. “Do what you want. You may have,” he sniffs self-righteously, “managed Luna, but you’ll never get either of <em>them.</em>”</p><p>“Okay, Draco.” His eyes linger for a second on Malfoy’s, and then Harry stalks away to eat his lunch somewhere else. It’s only after he leaves that he realizes he said the wrong name.</p><p>“What was that about?” Ginny asks. He doesn’t hear Malfoy’s reply.</p><p>Harry discovers that Blaise is actually much easier than Pansy, especially once he realizes the man is trying to get Harry to sleep with him. </p><p>The first night they meet up, Blaise is taciturn. He just stares amusedly at Harry for an uncomfortable length of time, and doesn’t seem inclined to speak to him at all.</p><p>On their second night of drinks, Blaise lowers his eyes shamelessly and stares at Harry’s lips for a good ten seconds, then allows his gaze to wander back up. And smiles. Smugly.</p><p>Well, it’s not as if Blaise <em>wasn’t</em> good-looking. Tan skin, curly dark hair that wound chaotically over his ears and fell onto his neck, smiling brown eyes, always trying to get something. Or, apparently, someone. Harry allows his own eyes to wander, taking in Blaise’s lanky figure and easy confidence. And it’s not as if having a one-night stand <em>isn’t</em> on Harry’s bucket list.</p><p>It appears that Slytherins are far more likely to bother talking to you when they’re in your bed. It’s nice to have uncomplicated sex. But Harry feels shocked at the sheer simplicity of it all. Should it be <em>that</em> easy? Strange. Well, it's what Harry wanted.</p><p>Anyways... that’s Blaise taken care of, who leaves with a much more amicable “see you around, Harry, and thank you!” at the end of the night</p><p>Pansy, on the other hand, is more difficult than anticipated, sitting posture stiff in her drawing room and staring thorny at Harry, holding hands with Luna. But Harry really wants her, because he suspects that him befriending Pansy would really piss Draco off.</p><p>“What do you <em>want,</em> Potter?”</p><p>“Uh...”</p><p>“Pansy, darling-” Luna says, and Pansy’s gaze instantly softens.</p><p>“What?” and Pansy turns her head so that Luna can whisper into her ear.</p><p>“Oh. Oh, really?”</p><p>Luna nods.</p><p>“Well, that changes things.”</p><p>“I thought so, too,” Luna replies.</p><p>“Well, Potter, Draco told me I was to prevent you from befriending me at all costs. Not that I wanted your friendship-” Pansy sneers the word, “-in the first place. But this is getting interesting.” Pansy rises, and extends a hand.</p><p>“Friends,” she says, not exactly a demand, more like a cross between a request and a statement. Was that all friendship was? Just a decision, a handshake? Somehow, it feels far too cut-and-dry. Shouldn’t friendship be messy and complicated and disgusting? Not that Harry wants those things. This is fine. This is nice.</p><p>Harry, feeling rather intimidated, stands up and shakes her hand. And to his complete and utter shock, Luna and Pansy <em>smirk</em> at each other.</p><p>“That’s all you came for, isn’t it, Potter?” Pansy says.</p><p>“But you can stay as long as you like,” Luna adds diplomatically.</p><p>“Thank you, Luna. Pansy.” And then it’s as though someone has flipped a switch on Pansy. Suddenly, conversation with her is easy and interesting, helped along occasionally by Luna’s interjections. They argue back and forth over the Chudley Cannons’ prospects (“Please, Potter, you think they’ll win any games with <em>that </em>Beater?” “Well, yes, Gurt isn’t the best they’ve ever had, but they actually used an actual Quidditch strategy last game! There’s hope!”) until Luna manages to sidetrack all three of them into a discussion about the relative merits of dragon blood and oven cleaner.</p><p>“Hey, Potter, you know whose birthday is in a week?”</p><p>“No? Should I?”</p><p>“It’s Draco’s.” Pansy smiles lazily. “You should crash Malfoy Manor. Me and Blaise will be there. I would <em>love</em> to see the look on his face when he realizes both of us betrayed him to you.</p><p>Harry grins back at her. “That sounds great. How’d you know about Blaise?”</p><p>Pansy rolls her eyes. “Call it pattern recognition. He seemed more smug than usual last night, which you wouldn’t think was <em>possible,</em> but there you are. Not hard to come to a conclusion.” Harry fights down a flush, but Pansy’s no longer watching him anyways.</p><p>“Luna, are you coming to the Manor with us?”</p><p>“Yes, of course.” Pansy smiles at her, and slips an arm around Luna’s shoulders, Luna melting like butter into the touch. Harry begins to feel very much like an intruder.</p><p>“Thank you to both of you for having me, but I really ought to go.”</p><p>“Oh- alright. Bye, Harry!”</p><p>“See you in a week, Potter.”</p><p>After seeing Malfoy with Ron, Ginny, and Luna, Harry actually finds it bizarre that he’s also friends with Pansy and Blaise.</p><p>But Harry’s edge is short-lived: Draco has been making his own moves.</p><p>Harry Apparates to Andromeda’s cottage the next day, as he had promised her a week before. He hasn’t seen Teddy in far too long. He walks straight to the nursery, and is startled to see Andromeda leaning against the doorframe, instead of in the kitchen as she usually is. She turns to Harry, and smiles softly, but doesn’t move aside so that he can enter.</p><p>A voice drifts out from the nursery, singing a mostly wordless melody that tugs at Harry’s mind, pulling him back to the warmth of loving arms and the quiet of rainy childhood nights. The song rises and falls soothingly, and Harry hears the sound of Teddy’s sleepy laughter.</p><p>
  <em>So let the rain fall, and all the trees too...</em>
</p><p>Harry walks to the doorway, standing next to Andromeda. It’s Malfoy. It’s Malfoy, wearing Slytherin green robes and singing Teddy to sleep. But Harry has no right to be annoyed by this. Draco is Teddy's cousin, isn’t he? Just like how Harry is Teddy’s godfather. And Andromeda, still watching them, looks so serene.</p><p>
  <em>Let the world end, I’ll still love you.</em>
</p><p>How can you really know a person, when they wear so many different faces?</p><p>On Thursday, Harry Apparates home to Grimmauld Place, and hears the sound of voices upstairs. Harry hadn’t been expecting visitors.</p><p>He draws his wand, Auror instincts kicking in, and follows the source of the noise to one of the studies on the second floor. He walks along, sending traces of his magic out to scout ahead for anything Dark or dangerous, shoes making no noise against the rich carpeting.</p><p>Harry stops outside a door. And of <em>course</em> it’s Malfoy, talking earnestly to someone inside. Harry re-holsters his wand. Wait, isn’t this the room with-</p><p>“Draco, you don’t need to apologize,” an achingly familiar voice says.</p><p>“No, I do. Even if nothing I did affected you, all of it affected your godson.”</p><p>“Harry? How is he? I haven’t seen him in so long.”</p><p>“He’s doing well, as far as I can tell.”</p><p>There’s a pause. “That’s good to hear. Well, if you really feel the need to say sorry to me… I accept your apology.”</p><p>Even through the door, Harry can hear the ragged breath Malfoy takes.</p><p>“Thank you. It was a pleasure to meet you, Sirius.”</p><p>“You too, Draco.” There’s the sound of footsteps approaching the door, but they hesitate for a moment.</p><p>“One more thing. Remember, you aren’t, and will never be your father, Draco.”</p><p>“Of course. I will.”</p><p>And here’s yet another side of Malfoy. Since when has he <em>apologized</em> like that, all grace and deference and deftness? And then Malfoy opens the door of the study containing Sirius’ portrait. He steps through, closes the door, dusts off invisible lint off of his robes, exhales. Then looks up, and jumps half out of his skin.</p><p>“Potter! I, uh-”</p><p>“Hi, Malfoy.”</p><p>“Uh, I was just-” Harry almost laughs at the look on his face.</p><p>“How’d you get in?”</p><p>“Hermione lowered the wards for me.”</p><p>“Ah. That’s fine.” Harry smiles. “Do you want a drink?”</p><p>“Yes, sweet Salazar, you scared the living shit out of me.”</p><p>“I noticed,” and then Harry does start laughing. Draco looks outraged, which only makes Harry laugh harder. Harry accompanies him to the drinks cabinet in the living room, where Draco pours himself a copious amount of alcohol.</p><p>“So, is it time to compare notes? Did you get any more of my people?” Draco asks, after drinking his entire glass in one go, and Harry wonders when this game turned from something born from irritation and spite into something almost friendly.</p><p>“Yep. Two more.”</p><p>“Ugh. Well, as you can see, I’ve added Sirius to my collection. Or at least his painting.”</p><p>“Why Sirius?”</p><p>“I don’t know, he seems like someone important to you.”</p><p>Harry stares into his own glass. “He was.”</p><p>Draco watches him carefully over the top of his second glass of wine. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>Draco jerks his shoulder in the vague direction of the room containing Sirius’ portrait.</p><p>“Thanks, Malfoy.”</p><p>“So, who did you corrupt on my side?” Draco asks, with sudden cheerfulness. Harry seizes upon the topic change thankfully.</p><p>“Not telling,” he grins. “You’ll find out soon.”</p><p>“Oh, good grief.” Draco collapses into an armchair. “Well, whatever you want, Harry.”</p><p>Harry startles at the use of his first name, but then settles, realizing he has been thinking of Malfoy as Draco for some time now, anyways. Draco’s hair shines silvery, almost gold, in the warm light of Grimmauld’s fireplace. He looks perfectly refined, even when he’s sprawled out in Harry’s armchair, legs crossed at the ankles. Harry wonders what kind of ungodly things Draco did to get his hair to look like that, and sips his brandy.</p><p>“I saw you at Andromeda’s the other day.”</p><p>“Oh, did you?”</p><p>“Well, heard you, more like. I didn’t know you sang.”</p><p>A slight flush creeps up Draco’s neck, but it could easily just be the alcohol.</p><p>“Obviously I do. You would not be able to comprehend the number of things I was tutored in between the ages of six and ten. Pureblood upbringing. Hey, Teddy’s really quite smart for his age, isn’t he?”</p><p>“He really is.” They share the kind of smile that can only be brought about by a mutual affection.</p><p>“I regret not having met him and Andromeda before now.”</p><p>“Didn’t your mother’s family disown Andromeda?”</p><p>“Yep,” says Draco, stretching out the vowel and almost silencing the final consonant. An unreadable expression flits across his face, then disappears. There’s silence for a few moments.</p><p>“How’d you get Hermione to let you in, anyways?”</p><p>“Was honest with her. Told her I needed to seduce your godfather.”'</p><p>Harry chokes on his drink.</p><p>“Just kidding, just kidding! Merlin, Potter.”</p><p>“Don’t- don’t talk to me for a second.”</p><p>Draco watches him, his grey eyes catching the light of the fire.</p><p>“Draco.”</p><p>“Hm?</p><p>“Are you- do you- ugh. Do you still feel… guilty?”</p><p>Draco sighs, with an amount of exasperation that Harry feels is rather unnecessary. “Which, of the dozens of things I could feel guilt about, are you referring to?”</p><p>“Well. Whatever you were apologizing to Sirius for, I suppose.”</p><p>Draco swirls his wine absent-mindedly. “Of course I do.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“I tried to <em>crucio</em> you in sixth year, Potter.”</p><p>“Yes, and I literally cut your chest open.”</p><p>Draco smiles like a person who hasn’t been happy for a long time. Well, Harry wished for messy, and he got it, didn’t he?</p><p>“I still have the scars from that.”</p><p>Harry balks. “Scars?”</p><p>“Well, yes, ever-cutting spells are bound to leave damage.”</p><p>“<em>God.</em> Draco. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s fine. <em>Crucio, sectumsempra,</em> it more or less evens out in the end, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“That’s not how it works! Draco, I’m so, so sorry.”</p><p>“It’s quite alright.” Draco stares at his glass, then looks up and smiles sweetly at Harry. Harry’s breath catches.</p><p>Oh- oh no. Is he developing a <em>thing</em> for Slytherins?</p><p>But this feels different from Blaise, from the joy of spontaneity Harry had felt drunk on. This feels frighteningly sober, every image of Draco crystal clear.</p><p>Draco drinking in ripped jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with Ron, Draco talking quietly in pale dress robes with Luna. Laughing in Auror uniform with Ginny. Singing about rain and trees, wearing emerald green on a visit to a former Slytherin. Draco everywhere. Had he been calculating his outfit choices based on who he was trying to get?</p><p>Harry suddenly notices that today, Draco’s wearing a thin, billowy black button-down shirt, left sleeve long, flaring out near his fingertips, and right sleeve short and cuffed, stopping just past the shoulder. The dark fabric contrasts beautifully with his pale skin, Harry thinks. The shirt is tucked on the right side into tight white trousers. The other half of the shirt is left out, but is adorned by a thin braided belt that emerges from between the shirt buttons and wraps over, emphasizing Draco’s narrow waist. The belt disappears somewhere behind Draco’s back.</p><p>Not for the first time, Harry wonders who Draco Malfoy really is.</p><p>Draco leans forward to take another sip of wine, then wipes his mouth, cat-like, with the inside of his right wrist.</p><p>How can you like a person, when they act so differently depending on who they’re with?</p><p>Draco sets his glass down and eyes the darkening window. <em>So let the rain fall...</em></p><p>Harry does not remember anything Draco says to him for the rest of the evening.</p><p>On June 5th, Harry goes downstairs to Grimmauld’s wine cellar, and picks out a bottle. It’s easy to choose. Draco had gravitated to the same wine both times he’d been drinking in Harry’s house. It’s some sort of rosé, Harry doesn’t bother trying to memorize the name.</p><p>He had thought Draco was using even his clothes in his, well, clearly successful attempts to get people to like him. Was that true? Or was it just coincidence that Draco targeted Ginny while in uniform, who was famous for her passion about work? Or that he was wearing Muggle clothing to talk to the blood traitor Ron Weasley? And wearing Slytherin green for Andromeda? Or was Harry reading far too much into it? He probably was.</p><p>Harry changes into dark green robes, accented with gold around the collar and sleeves. A combination of Gryffindor and Slytherin colours. He examines himself vaguely in one of the body-length mirrors that seem to turn up everywhere in Grimmauld Place. Overthinking everything or not, he’ll take a leaf out of Draco’s book. Besides, he looks good in these.</p><p>He Apparates to the tall spiked gates of the Manor. The wards are down today, but it’s always politer to knock, isn’t it? It’s a windy day. Harry swallows slightly as he remembers the circumstances of his last visit - a screaming Hermione, a Stinging Hex, Draco lying to Death Eaters. But Malfoy Manor today looks nothing like it had. The once wilted gardens have been restored to full glory, overflowing flowerbeds filling the air with a clean scent, roses on trellises along with strange blooms that Harry has never seen before. The long winding gravel driveway is well maintained and neat. Everything looks immaculate. There’s the quiet noise of excited shouting a long way away.</p><p>He hears a pop - someone has Apparated right beside him. He whirls around and tries to dampen his instant flight-or-fight response, a simple thing, sharpened to a horrible sensitivity through years of curse dodging and Voldemort killing.</p><p>But it’s just Pansy, looking beautiful, her dark hair swept over one shoulder of an icy white short-sleeved dress.</p><p>“Hiya, Harry! My oldest friend! How are you doing, sweetheart?” Her voice carries far, enough to reach the figure of one disgruntled Draco Malfoy over Pansy’s shoulder, who is currently advancing rapidly towards them.</p><p>“Oh, just splendidly. I’ve missed you so much, Pansy.”</p><p>“Shall I escort you to the party?”</p><p>“It would be an honour.”</p><p>They link arms and begin to walk up the driveway, stones crunching under Pansy’s heels and Harry’s shoes. As they approach Draco, who is now leaning cross-armed against one of the trees that line the gravel, Harry watches his expression change. He starts out staring daggers at both him and Pansy, but mostly Pansy. And then his gaze flicks back to Harry, and he visibly starts. When they finally walk up to him, Pansy smirking as much as anything, all Draco says is “You look good, Potter.”</p><p>Pansy’s eyebrows shoot up, and somehow she does not appear disappointed at the absence of Draco’s outraged tirade, which she had clearly been looking forward to. She merely detaches herself from Harry, smiles, and walks back to the Manor, casting a backwards glance at them.</p><p>
  <em>How can you like a person, when they act differently depending on who they’re with?</em>
</p><p>Draco is smiling at him, silvery hair caught by the breeze, his suit jacket fluttering, Harry’s robes captured in the same wind, and Harry answers his own question.</p><p><em>I like you when you’re with</em> me.</p><p>Harry hands the wine to him, who accepts it with a “Oh, thank you. I love this one.” Then Draco offers his own arm in replacement of Pansy’s, and they walk together down the winding driveway to the Manor, Draco’s boots and Harry’s shoes crunching on the gravel.</p><p> The sounds of the party grow louder. Just outside the intricately-carved front doors, Draco pauses and smirks. And then shoves them open.</p><p>The balloons and streamers that someone has put up in the foyer do not mix well with the old-world stateliness of the Manor, but nobody seems to care. Pansy is chatting with Ginny near the punch bowl, Luna is talking to an upside-down Blaise, hanging gracefully off a chandelier, and- there’s a flash of Weasley red in the corner, speaking earnestly to a head of bushy brown hair Harry would recognize anywhere. Oh <em>no.</em> He did <em>not.</em> Ginny was acceptable, but this-</p><p>“You got <em>Hermione?</em> Hermione <em>Granger?</em>”</p><p>Draco grins savagely.</p><p>Harry is only slightly mollified when Blaise drops off the ceiling to stroll over and wrap an arm around him, whispering “hey, Harry” into his ear, wiping the victorious grin off of Draco’s face.</p><p>“You too, Blaise? Oh. You shagged him, didn’t you? Ugh. Useless. You’re <em>useless,</em> Blaise!”</p><p>“Some things just can’t be helped, Draco dear.” Blaise flicks him in the ear. They smile at each other. Harry feels a strange tug at his mind, watching them, and walks away to the drinks counter. Draco casts a glance after him, as if he wants to follow. But he’s quickly pulled away into a conversation with Luna, who gestures wildly. Harry hears the words “ash forests” and “extinction” and knows Draco won’t be getting out of that conversation for some time. Draco nods back at her, talking loudly, making his own wild gestures and looking genuinely interested.</p><p>“Is no one making conservation efforts?” he yells. <em>And all the trees...</em></p><p>Harry continues to stand there by the punch bowl, occasionally greeting one of his or Draco’s friends, who are apparently all one and the same now. He watches as Draco talks to Pansy, bringing up some Quidditch team or other. Draco makes rude remarks about one of the players until Pansy ends up hanging off his arm laughing and shaking her head. He’s reminded of Draco making Ginny laugh so hard she couldn’t breathe.</p><p>Draco talks to Ginny, asking her politely about work and thanking her for something, quiet and restrained the way he had been in Luna’s parlour. He talks to Blaise, heads bent close together, one of Blaise’s arms slung casually over his shoulders, both of them smiling seriously.</p><p>He talks to Hermione. Even from a distance, Harry can tell that he’s apologizing for something.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Hermione replies. <em>Well, if you really feel the need to say sorry to me...</em></p><p>He talks to Ron, grinning when Ron presses another glass of something into his hand, and agrees to… recite T. S. Eliot poetry with him?</p><p>“But our lot crawls between dry ribs,” Draco proclaims seriously a few minutes later.</p><p>“To keep! Our metaphysics! Warm!” Ron finishes, punching the air.</p><p>Complicated. Draco’s so complicated.</p><p>Harry had thought that Draco was like a mirror, reflecting back the characteristics of the people he’s with, but he’s not. More like the three mirrors of a kaleidoscope, reflecting Draco’s own traits back in infinitely different patterns. He wasn’t quiet with Luna, raucous with Ron, uptight with Pansy, loose with Blaise. He was quiet, raucous, uptight, loose, ridiculous with all of them. And Harry wants. Wants it all, with the desperation Harry hadn’t known he was still capable of. One windy day, is that all that it takes?</p><p>And finally, Draco talks to Harry. Well, not really, more like stands around in Harry’s general vicinity, and focuses intently on incorporating large quantities of vodka into the punch.</p><p>Draco finally looks up. “So, Blaise, Pansy and Luna on your side, and Ginny, Ron, Sirius and Hermione on mine. I’m one ahead.”</p><p>“Not for long. Excuse me, Malfoy, I’m gonna go acquire your mother.” And it’s all Harry can do to not follow his words with a hug, beg Draco to stay, ask him if he’s free later. <em>Let the rain fall...</em></p><p>“What? My mother? <em>No!</em>”</p><p>Harry strolls off before Draco can physically prevent him from leaving, and begins searching through the rooms of the Manor. He’s in one of the back rooms, one with floor-to-ceiling windows, when he spots Narcissa Malfoy in the gardens, tending to a particularly gorgeous collection of deep purple roses. She’s kneeling on a cloth laid over the edge of the bed, spooning fertilizer around the roots of the plants.</p><p>He slides one of the windows open, steps through it awkwardly, and shuts it again. Narcissa looks up, and spots him. She stands up - but standing up isn’t the right term, not when there is so much elegance attached to the movement. She rises.</p><p>“Mr. Potter. Are you looking for the party? I believe it should be confined to the front of the house, unless it truly has gotten out of hand.”</p><p>“No, I think Draco has it completely in hand.” If a full dramatic recitation of <em>Whispers of Immortality,</em> accompanied by Ron pretending to be a marmoset, counts as having it in hand, Harry thinks to himself.</p><p>“So they aren’t drunk enough to start the poetry readings, yet?”</p><p>“Ah- No, they are. They definitely are.” Narcissa and Harry share an amused look.</p><p>“Were you looking for something, Mr. Potter?” Narcissa says, turning back to her supply of fertilizer.</p><p>“Call me Harry, please.”</p><p>“All right. In that case, you may call me Narcissa. But I assume you wanted something other than idle chat.”</p><p>“Thank you, Narcissa. Actually, uh, I was hoping to talk to you. I realized I never actually thanked you for saving my life. Even if it was only for Draco’s sake. So, thank you.”</p><p>“Compared to all the harm the Malfoy family has caused you over the course of the last decade, and even before you were born, I doubt it weighs much in the balance.” Complicated.  But Harry doesn’t mind the complicatedness at all, this time.</p><p>“Thank you all the same.”</p><p>“It’s quite alright, Harry.” She quirks her mouth at him, and then turns to look at something behind Harry.</p><p>“Draco? Is something the matter?"</p><p>Harry turns too, and sees Draco once again leaning against a tree, an ash tree, the irises and roses around him swaying in the wind. <em>All the trees too...</em></p><p>“Just making sure our Savior hasn’t gotten too lost,” he replies.</p><p>Narcissa smiles, a real one that lights up her face, and turns the same smile to Harry.</p><p>“Go on, then. Lovely to meet you, Harry.”</p><p>“You too, Narcissa,” he returns, as he is subtly but forcefully escorted away by Draco’s hand on his back. He tries his best not to lean back into the touch. They return to the party, which has reduced to a subdued hum. But when Draco re-enters, conversation picks back up.</p><p>“Guess we’re about even then, Harry.” He flashes a quick, bright smile, taps Harry on the shoulder, his hand lingering slightly longer than necessary, Harry thinks, hopes, wants. Draco wanders straight back into a conversation with Pansy, Luna and Hermione, laughing, listening and talking in turn. And so the kaleidoscope rotates again.</p><p>
  <em>How can you really know a person, when they wear so many different faces?</em>
</p><p>Harry decides that he was wrong. It’s not any one reflection he was drawn to, but the components within, that are rearranged time after time, forming images that are at once the same and different. He likes Draco when he’s with Blaise, Ginny, Ron, Sirius, Narcissa, he likes Draco with anyone and everyone.</p><p>But he really... would like Draco with him.</p><p>Harry spends the rest of the night politely shutting down anyone who tries to start up a conversation with him, and instead watches the fairy lights dancing over Draco’s hair, landing on his suit jacket, and listens to the sound of Draco laughing. Because the nameless feeling that has overtaken Harry is awfully lonely. And horribly simple.</p><p>What use is simplicity, when it feels like <em>this?</em></p><p>So at the end of the night, Harry doesn’t notice that Draco has politely seen his guests to the door, kissing Pansy’s hand in goodbye, reaching up to ruffle Blaise’s hair, waving to Ginny leaving on a broom, promising Luna he’d sign her petition. He exchanges one last “The worlds revolve like ancient women, gathering fuel in vacant lots” with Ron (“You forgot to say ‘Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh’! That’s the best line!”), and bids an uncharacteristically stiff farewell to Hermione. Harry doesn’t notice that he’s the last one left, because he’s occupied by how Draco’s hair looks, whipped into a feathery mess by the wind through the open door. Occupied by complexities, loving the interactions that live within a kaleidoscope, turns and change and familiar strangeness.</p><p>“Harry.”</p><p>
  <em>Let the world end,</em> that same voice sang once.
</p><p>And Harry’s about to apologize profusely for losing track of time and leave immediately, but something in Draco’s quiet tone reassures him. Draco passes him a wine glass of something. It’s the rosé. Draco sips at his own glass of the same. They stand drinking, leaning against the counter side by side. The wine is tangy sweet, tastes like citrus and honeydew even to Harry’s unpracticed senses. Despite being room-temperature, the glass feels lovely and cool against Harry’s fingers. Draco’s legs are crossed at the ankles.</p><p>“We’re drinking together,” says Draco.</p><p>“Uh. Yes, obviously?”</p><p>Draco examines the stem of his wine glass.</p><p>“What?” Harry asks again.</p><p>He rolls his eyes. “What I was trying to <em>point out</em>, is that I have become friends with you.”</p><p>Harry waits a moment for the revelation, then realizes there is no revelation, and gasps melodramatically. “<em>No.</em> You <em>can’t</em> have.”</p><p>Draco grins at him, his hair falling all over his face.</p><p>“Going for my mother was pretty good, I’ll grant you that. But I doubt you can top me befriending <em>you.</em> Unless you decide you want to have cute little chats in Azkaban with my Death Eater father.”</p><p>“Oh, god no. Let’s keep your dad off the table.”</p><p>“I’ll drink to that,” and Draco does, taking a long sip. He licks his lips afterwards, flicking his gaze over to Harry. Harry does his best not to swallow. “So. I win. I am better at taking over your life than you.”</p><p>“No, I don’t think so.”</p><p>“Oh, you can top me becoming friends with you?”</p><p>“Yep.” Harry drinks again.</p><p>Draco sets down his wineglass on the counter. The sound of marble clinking against glass. Then he tugs Harry’s glass away from him, and sets it down as well. Clink. </p><p>There are fairy lights all around them now, attracted to heat and emotion. They light up Draco’s hair, making it almost a silvery halo drifting around his head. His jacket fits perfectly against his body, his slacks are rolled up halfway up his calves and reveal his ankles. Draco smiles. <em>Let the world end.</em></p><p>Draco pushes himself off the counter and pivots around to rest a hand on either side of Harry, with the quickness of a toy twisting in a child’s hands. Harry swallows. </p><p>Somewhere, a window slams open. It creates a rush of wind that extinguishes the candles and multiplies the floating fairy lights. It runs through Draco’s hair, through Harry’s, and carries Draco’s next words flying through the air.</p><p>“Then do it, coward.”</p><p>
  <em>Let the world end...</em>
</p><p>So Harry takes Draco’s left hand and brings it to his lips.</p><p>Somewhere, in some corner of Harry’s mind, is the sound of Draco’s voice, singing the lyrics of the lullaby that have winded their way into Harry’s soul. Outside, it begins to rain.</p><p>And then Draco is tearing his hand away and wrapping it in Harry’s hair instead, slipping the other under Harry’s robes, kissing him chastely with a finality more crisp than the sound of marble against glass. Saying things like <em>god it took you long enough</em> and <em>you look so good in green why weren’t you in Slytherin</em> and <em>I was so jealous of you and Blaise, did you know that?</em> and a whispered <em>fuck, Harry</em> as Harry kisses him back, with much less of the chasteness. Harry ends up hoisted onto the countertop, the whole of Draco’s body pressed against him, Draco’s legs wrapped around his waist, and doesn’t know whether to close his eyes or never blink again. The rain and wind sing on through the open windows, droplets and gusts whiling through the lights, wetting Harry’s hair, Draco’s clothes, their lips. Harry is struck by a sudden thought, and pulls away gently.</p><p>“Draco. That night you came in with Ron? Did you... want this then?” Harry asks, breathlessly. He wraps an arm around Draco and pulls both of them onto their sides, lying horizontally across the countertop, drawing him close. Draco closes his eyes.</p><p>“Don’t ask stupid questions, you’ll get stupid answers.”</p><p>“Is that a yes?”</p><p>“...yes.”</p><p>“Sorry it took me so long. But I think we can both agree I've now won.”</p><p>Harry watches with satisfaction as Draco’s eyes fly open, the same way he had watched with satisfaction as he befriended Draco’s friends, wormed his way into Draco’s life.</p><p>Draco groans just as dramatically as Harry had. “Noooo, you can’t win,” he says, and clutches at Harry’s dark green robes, sending them both rolling sideways, teetering dangerously close to the edge of the counter. Harry ends up on top of Draco, stopping just in time. The marble is uncomfortable against Harry’s palms, but so is wind, and rain, and so is affection.</p><p>“I win,” Harry repeats. “Darling,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.</p><p>In response, Draco smiles radiantly, like someone who’s been happy for a long, long time, a lifetime. And the kaleidoscope turns again, revealing the light that shines through it. And what’s so wrong with complexity, when it feels like <em>this?</em></p><p>Draco suddenly sits up, almost knocking his forehead against Harry’s.</p><p>“If I befriended every single Weasley in existence, do you think I could still win? Despite this?” Draco asks, quietly, raucously, uptight, loose, ridiculous. He gestures vaguely to the short distance between them. </p><p>Draco’s shirt is unbuttoned, half of it has been untucked. His jacket has fallen off his shoulders, his lips glossy, he’s still breathing hard. Debauched, he looks. Draco Malfoy, debauched. By him. And it's a kaleidoscope shifting into another beautiful fractal.</p><p>It’s the mirrors that Harry loves, just as much as the beads and pretty, colourful things inside. Why did Harry ever want greyness?</p><p>“What, are you just going to invite Molly and Arthur to tea?” Harry asks.</p><p>“Anything for you,” Draco replies, and Harry wonders if Draco’s talking about beating Harry at this ridiculous game, or just about Harry. It doesn’t matter, because either way-</p><p>“You’re perfect, Draco.”</p><p>Draco must respond, but Harry doesn’t hear it, too busy noticing how his hair is rain-wet and wind-dried, how his eyes become supplicating, how his mouth tastes like citrus and honeydew and lonely summers.</p><p>He's beautiful, at any time, with anyone, in any place. Three mirrors, when, who, where, reflecting back what Draco is. It’s what Harry has learned from the past few weeks. And the kaleidoscope turns...</p><p>Draco’s practically ethereal, now. Isolated in the warm loneliness that is affection.</p><p><em>So let the rain fall, I’ll love you still,</em>  someone sang in a child’s nursery, a lifetime ago. A turn ago, a fractal ago.</p><p>The rain does, falling thick and sweet on Narcissa’s roses, pattering on rooftops, soaking those foolish enough to be caught out in it. But fools know, it tastes like lonely summers and wind-blown hair, beautiful complicated things and citrusy rosé and desire.</p><p>The wise men crawl between dry ribs, mumbling something about their metaphysics, but the idiots are out in the rain, singing, learning, loving. As they should be. And so the worlds revolve like ancient women. Wipe your hand across your rain-soaked mouth, and laugh. </p><p>And Harry does, wipes the rain off his lips and laughs, as he watches emotions wheel and compound and shift in the always-slipping circles of grey eyes, overwhelmed by the wonder of fools.</p><p>"I think I love you."</p><p>"That's because you're thinking with something other than your brain, Potter."</p><p>And the rain falls on.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Inspired (tenuously) by a story my girlfriend wrote when she was in grade 8, which I also haven't read. Because she won't let me. (If you see this, darling, I love you, you're a work of art.)<br/>Thank you very much for reading! Kudos, comments and suggestions are extremely appreciated. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>